


Yule Never Know

by Zeplerfer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Pottertalia, Slytherin Alfred, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball, hufflepuff Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, Alfred F. Jones is ready to take on the most difficult challenge yet: finding a date to the Yule Ball after an argument with his best friend, Arthur Kirkland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yule Never Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayumiSato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayumiSato/gifts).



> Birthday gift for Mayumisatonsan! Based on her [Slytherin!Alfred x Hufflepuff!Arthur](http://mayumisatosan.tumblr.com/post/104352044267/possible-usukus-plots-to-pottertalia-fanfictions) Pottertalia idea.

The excited roar of the crowd greeted Alfred F. Jones as he emerged from the Forbidden Forest. As the cheers grew louder, he grinned and waved to the packed stadiums, holding aloft a golden key that he had successfully stolen from a herd of centaurs. All around him, students in green scarves jumped up and down and shouted his name. Even the Gryffindors were cheering, albeit with perfunctory politeness. It seemed that everyone from Hogwarts wanted their champion to win the Triwizard Tournament. And Alfred was confident that he could do it. He would win—for the glory of Hogwarts and to satisfy his own ambitions.

As the cheers began to die down, Alfred glanced around. He was searching for his best friend, Arthur Kirkland. Even though Alfred would never admit it in public, Arthur had helped him a lot in preparing for the first task. Unfortunately, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of his friend’s golden mop of messy hair or his yellow scarf, no matter how hard he looked. Maybe Arthur had decided to skip the tournament? He tried to quash his sense of disappointment.

After one last wave to the crowd, Alfred stepped into the tent that had been set up for each of the competitors and poured himself a glass of water from the waiting pitcher. He sank into a nearby chair and sighed. One task down, two more to go.

The key, which would provide his clue for the next task, spoke in riddles about losing something precious and restoring it beneath the Wiggen Tree. It didn’t make any sense to Alfred, but he would have a few weeks to figure it out.

The tent cloth rustled and he looked up to see a familiar figure slip into the tent. “Hey, Arthur,” Alfred said with a smile. “Come to congratulate me on my glorious victory?”

“ _Your_ victory?” Arthur replied, arching one of his eyebrows. “I seem to recall helping you a great deal with your research beforehand.”

“Well, yeah.” Alfred shrugged dismissively, taking another sip of water. “But you weren’t the one who had to face the centaurs.”

“No, but I _was_ the one who suggested using a de-aging potion so they wouldn’t attack you.”

“And it worked perfectly! You’re good at this stuff. I bet you’ll be able to decipher what this key means in no time,” Alfred added, flattering Arthur with a brilliant smile. For some reason, smiling at Arthur tended to reduce his number of complaints about taking time away from his own homework to help Alfred with the tournament.

The color rose in Arthur’s cheeks, but he didn’t look as mollified as usual. Instead, he crossed his arms and gave Alfred a stern look. “I’m sure I could, but you’re _supposed_ to be solving these tasks on your own, you know,” he tartly reminded him. “Or are all those comments about being 'the best champion ever' just for show?”

“No! I just think champions should focus more on fighting and less on homework.”

“If you don’t do your homework, you won’t know how to fight,” Arthur retorted, reminding Alfred once again why they had been sorted into different houses.

Alfred sighed in exasperation. “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“I suppose not,” Arthur replied, but before Alfred could heave a sigh of relief, the Hufflepuff turned around and acted like he was going to leave. “Since you’ve got everything figured out, I’ll let you handle the next two tasks on your own. Good luck deciphering that key.”

“Wait!” Alfred cried, jumping to his feet and grabbing Arthur’s arm before he could leave. The Hogwarts champion wasn’t willing to admit that he _needed_ Arthur’s help, but he also didn’t want to lose it. Thinking fast, he smirked as he came up with the perfect solution. “Forget the tasks. We need to talk about the Yule Ball.”

Arthur slowly turned around. “The Yule Ball?” he asked, his eyes wide and almost hopeful.

“Yeah.” Alfred shrugged, not wanting Arthur to think it was a big deal. “It’ll probably be easiest if we just go together. I mean, I don’t have anyone to go with, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

“Oh…” A flash of disappointment crossed Arthur’s face, quickly replaced by annoyance. “Why are you so sure I don’t have a date?” he asked sharply.

“Well, I’m the Hogwarts champion and _I_ don’t have one, so…”

“…so you think there’s zero chance a little Hufflepuff nobody like me has a date.” Arthur lifted his head and gave Alfred a cold look. “I don’t need your pity date. As it happens, I already have a date to the Ball.”

“Sure you do,” Alfred replied with a disbelieving laugh.

“I do! And you know what? I have had it up to _here_ with your conceited, smug arrogance and your lack of gratitude!” Arthur shouted. “You can solve the rest of the tournament on your own. And while you’re at it, go fuck yourself with a broomstick, you bloody tosspot!”

Alfred stared in shock as the tent flap snapped close behind his friend. He had no idea what he had done to inspire the level of anger coursing beneath the Hufflepuff’s calm exterior. Alfred frowned and shrugged away a nagging sense of guilt. After all, it wasn’t _his_ fault that Arthur was so jealous of his success as the Hogwarts champion.

He would just have to find someone else to go with him to the Yule Ball. How hard could it be?

* * *

Surprisingly hard, it turned out.

As was his habit, Alfred waited until the last moment to find a date for the Yule Ball. By the time he started asking around, almost everyone had dates. After a few extremely pitying looks from the Sixth Year girls in Slytherin, he didn’t want to ask anyone else lest they start a rumor about what a total date-less loser he was.

It was so unfair! It wasn’t like Arthur actually had a date. He was just being a petulant prissy pants to punish Alfred for being chosen as the champion. It was the only logical explanation.

Alfred finally had to admit his lack of a date when the Beauxbatons champion, Françoise Bonnefoy, came looking for him the night before the Ball for the rehearsal dance.

“No date?” she asked. “I thought Monsieur Unfashionable Eyebrows would accompany you.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Alfred muttered.

She shook her head pitingly. “I can’t believe you asked and he said no!”

“Well, I didn’t actually _ask_ ,” Alfred admitted. Looking back, he had sort of assumed that Arthur would want to go with him. That had seemed to piss Arthur off more than anything else.

“Ah,” she gave him that knowing look that French girls did so well. Alfred wished he knew what it was they knew that he didn’t. “ _Tant pis_. Now your best luck would be asking a Hogwarts student who is too young to attend on their own.”

Alfred blinked. He hadn’t thought about taking a third-year, but it was probably the best he could do the night before the ball. Why, oh why, hadn’t Arthur said _yes_? The small portion of his brain that would have been happier in Gryffindor pointedly reminded him that he had never given the other student the opportunity. But the rest of him brushed the thought aside. Anyone with a bit of sense should have been thrilled to go with the Hogwarts champion to the Ball. It wasn’t his fault that Arthur was acting so irrationally. He probably didn’t even _have_ a date.

“I hope he stays angry with you. It increases my chances of winning,” Françoise remarked as she walked away, leaving behind only the faint scent of rose petals.

“Hey, I can win without him!” Alfred protested. He crossed his arms and reminded himself that he would get his revenge on Françoise by defeating her in the tournament. But first he would get his revenge on Arthur. It turned out that he knew _exactly_ the right person to invite to the Ball.

* * *

Aisling Kirkland was a third-year Slytherin who never said no to an opportunity to annoy her older brother. She looked splendid in her full-length emerald dress as she and Alfred walked arm-in-arm down the Great Hall.

It had been decorated like a magical ice palace, filled with dazzling crystal chandeliers and sparkling flakes of snow that fluttered down from the ceiling but never reached the floor. Students in their finest robes and dresses stood on both sides of the ballroom, leaving an empty space for the champions and their dates. Alfred scanned the crowds, searching for any hint of Arthur’s straw-colored hair. He caught a glimpse, but it was gone before he could see if Arthur had indeed brought a date.

The Yule Ball began with the Champions’ Waltz, though Alfred spent most of the dance trying to spot Arthur again instead of paying attention to the beat.

Aisling flicked her red hair over her shoulder and gave him an annoyed look. “Come on, eejit! Watch yer feet.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, though his lips quirked upward in a small smile. It seemed that insulting people in a charming accent was a family trait.

It was fortunate for Alfred that the champions weren’t being judged on their dance skills. Françoise and her date—a handsome Hogwarts student with sun-kissed skin and an easygoing grin—glided across the dance floor. Near the center of the hall, the Durmstrang champion, Ludwig Beilschmidt, waltzed with perfect precision while his dance partner swung her ponytail to the side and laughed happily.

From Alfred’s perspective, the waltz seemed to go on forever, but at least other couples soon joined them on the dance floor and saved him from all of the uncomfortable stares. He loved being the center of adoring attention, just not while he was dancing.

Alfred nearly tripped over his own feet when he spotted Arthur waltzing nearby. To his shock, Arthur was dancing with Gilbert Beilschmidt. Even though he wasn’t his school’s champion, the Durmstrang student had still developed a reputation for being an excellent duelist, an amazing Quidditch player, and a person who could liven up any party. Which begged the question—what was he doing with a stick-in-the-mud like Arthur?

Aisling followed Alfred’s gaze and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Wow. Artie pants did well for himself, dinnit he? No wonder you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Alfred muttered as the dance finally ended. He went to find a seat while Aisling sensibly left to dance with someone else.

From his seat near the wall, Alfred could watch as Arthur and Gilbert danced and laughed. They seemed to be having a really good time. In fact, Alfred couldn’t remember when he had last seen Arthur smile so much. It reminded him of the time Arthur had accidentally sipped a Euphoria elixir in Potions class, but these were softer, more genuine smiles.

As the next song began to play, Arthur and Gilbert took a good breather. They looked engrossed in conversation and Arthur talked nearly as much as Gilbert did. While Alfred watched them chat, it occurred to him that it had been a very long time since he had spoken to Arthur about anything other than the Triwizard Tournament.

They used to talk about everything from Quidditch rivalries and their plans from the summer and new flavors of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, but lately everything had been about Alfred and helping him win the tournament. He felt a stab of guilt. Arthur had been so patient and helpful, and Alfred had repaid him by suggesting that he was incapable of getting a date.

Alfred sighed and laid his head on the table. He’d always known he wasn’t Ravenclaw material, but he hadn’t realized he was _that_ much of an idiot. Busy wallowing in self-pity, he didn’t bother to look up as he heard a set of footsteps come closer.

“He’s not going to be jealous if ye sit here moping the whole night,” Aisling remarked.

“At least he’s having fun,” Alfred replied miserably. He lifted his head high enough to see the dance floor and felt a hollow pang in his stomach as he watched Arthur laugh out loud at one of Gilbert’s many jokes.

“Aye. At this point he’s probably thanking his lucky stars he went with the fun, cool guy.”

“Hey, I’m a fun, cool guy!” Alfred protested. He pushed back his chair and stood up with renewed determination. A Gryffindor would be chivalrous and let his friend have fun with his date. But Alfred was a Slytherin, and he refused to lose to a rival. Plus, focusing on winning saved him from pondering any uncomfortable thoughts about why it bothered him so much to see Arthur having fun with a different guy.

He followed Aisling back to the dance floor and was relieved to find that no one was waltzing any more. Showing off his best dance moves, Alfred grinned to himself when Arthur _finally_ started glancing his way. Sure, the Hufflepuff looked more annoyed than jealous, but Alfred had to start somewhere.

At the end of the song, Arthur strode over and confronted him. “I can’t believe you brought my little sister. She’s three years younger than you!”

Alfred shrugged. “So what? It’s not like I’m gonna kiss her or anything.”

“Hello. I’m standing _right here_ ,” Aisling reminded them.

“So you admit you’re just leading her on?” Arthur demanded, ignoring his sister’s presence as he stepped menacingly into Alfred’s personal bubble.

“What? No! She wanted to come to the dance.”

“Actually, I wanted to annoy Arthur,” Aisling interrupted. “I guess this counts.”

Arthur lifted his head in triumph. “Hah! At least _my_ date actually enjoys spending time with me.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s so great about Gilbert anyway?” Alfred demanded angrily. “All he does is talk about how awesome he is.” He turned to look around for the Durmstrang student and spotted him acting rather suspiciously near the punch bowl.

“That’s the pot calling the cauldron black. Besides, he’s different once you start talking to him. He’s funny, he’s witty…”

“He’s spiking the punch.”

Arthur blinked. “Wait. What?!”

They all turned to look at Gilbert as he gave them a jaunty wave from next to the giant punch bowl made of ice. Arthur hurried off to chastise his date while Alfred smiled to himself. Although he normally wasn’t a tattletale, he was too much of an opportunistic Slytherin to ignore the opportunity to remove his rival. Playing the role of a good student, he promptly reported what he had seen to the nearest professor, and grinned with satisfaction as he watched the professor confront Gilbert and lead him away. He even earned thirty points for Slytherin!

Alfred’s grin disappeared a moment later as he caught Arthur’s gaze from across the room. The Hufflepuff scowled at him and then turned to follow after Gilbert. It was clear that Alfred wasn’t going to see Arthur again for the rest of the night.

* * *

In fact, Arthur continued to avoid him for the next two weeks. Even though Alfred was supposed to be figuring out the clue for his next task, every time he stared at the key he could think of nothing but Arthur. He missed his friend and he regretted everything that had happened between them at the Yule Ball. It took him some time, but he eventually realized that his problems had started long before the Ball.

He had been a terrible friend to Arthur, taking him for granted and never thanking him for his help during the first task. No wonder Arthur had snapped at him and picked a different date.

Alfred was also beginning to suspect the true reason why he had been so upset when he saw Arthur with Gilbert. But now he worried that he would never have a chance with Arthur because the Hufflepuff would be annoyed with him forever. Any sensible person would be furious at someone who ruined his date and acted like a smug douchebag about the tournament.

Even though Alfred should have used the final two hours before the second task began to rest or practice his spells, he decided to find Arthur and apologize for being such a jerk. If nothing else, at least he would be able to participate in the second task with a clean conscience.

He headed directly to the kitchens, where one could reliably find a Hufflepuff at most hours of the day. Luck was with him and he found one of Arthur’s classmates nibbling on a treacle tart as she did her homework.

“Hey, would you mind letting me into the common room so I can talk to Arthur?” he asked, giving her his most charming smile. Slytherins could be very persuasive when they wanted.

She shook her head. “He’s not in the common room.”

“Where is he?”

“Huh?” She blinked. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Hufflepuffs were many things, but they weren’t good liars. Alfred put his hand on his wand and gave her another bright smile. “If you don’t know where Arthur is, then how do you know he isn’t in the common room?” He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “I know a spell that can make you sound like a troll for the rest of the week.”

She looked up with startled, frightened eyes. “It’s nothing bad! They just took him down to the dungeon to get everything ready.”

Nothing good ever happened in the dungeons! Terrified for Arthur’s safety, Alfred turned on his heels and ran through the corridors, scaring the younger students as he barreled past them. With his wand at the ready, he took the steps down into the dark, foreboding dungeon two at a time. From the base of the stairs, Alfred could see torchlight illuminating a giant spider’s web. At the very center, a body was trapped inside a tightly woven cocoon. Even in the dim light, he instantly recognized the strands of blond hair escaping from the spider’s silk.

“You can’t come down here! We’re not ready yet!” a Durmstrang professor shouted at him.

“ _Stupefy_!” Alfred cried, firing a beam of blue light that knocked the professor against the wall. He landed in an unconscious heap as Alfred raced past.

A spider the size of a small elephant emerged from the shadows and hissed at Alfred angrily. The Slytherin used a stunning spell again, but it had no effect on such a large monster. Alfred ducked and barely rolled away in time as the spider shot a web at him.

Remembering the advice that Arthur had given for the first task, Alfred summoned his broomstick and took advantage of the dungeon’s high ceilings to escape the spider’s reach. For the moment, the monster seemed more interested in him than in Arthur, but he was terrified that the creature would decide to eat Arthur as soon as it lost interest in him.

Alfred desperately tried to remember what they had learned about Acromantulas in class as he circled above the angry spider, but nothing came to mind. With time not on his side, he decided to settle for a weapon that nearly all animals feared.

“ _Incendio_!” Alfred shouted, setting the spider and part of the web aflame. The beast shrieked in pain and writhed on the stone floor as Alfred dive-bombed the center of the web. He broke through the sticky strands, grabbing Arthur’s limp body as he flew toward freedom. Shouting voices echoed behind him in the corridor, but Alfred paid them no mind. He shot through the corridors, carrying Arthur on his broomstick to the safety of the infirmary.

Most of the spider webs had fallen away in-flight, giving Alfred a chilling view of Arthur’s pale face as he deposited the unconscious student on the nearest cot. The Hufflepuff lay as still as death, not reacting in the slightest as Alfred brushed the cobwebs from his tousled hair.

“Arthur? Come on, say something!” Alfred begged, patting Arthur’s cheeks. He shivered when he realized how cold they were. “Nurse! Nurse!” Alfred called, but no one came.

Realizing that he was on his own, he raced over to the potions cabinet and looked for an antidote to a death-like sleep. It seemed that someone had been in the cabinet before him because the bottles of Wiggenweld Potion were all gone. There was only a broken bottle in the back and a few drops of residue. Alfred gathered the remaining liquid onto his finger and returned to Arthur’s side.

There wasn’t enough potion to give to Arthur… unless…

Alfred blushed and brushed his fingers over his lips. Bending forward, he gently pressed his mouth against Arthur’s mouth until he felt a hint of movement beneath him.

Pulling back before Arthur could realize how he had given him the potion, Alfred watched with relief as Arthur took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell a few more times and a hint of color returned to his cheeks. Alfred smiled so widely that it felt like his face would split in two.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open and he turned to look at Alfred. “Is the task over already?” he asked, still sounding a little woozy from the potion’s effect.

“What?” Alfred blinked. He had been so focused on the waves of worry and relief flooding his body that it took him a moment to process what Arthur was saying. “No, the second task hasn’t happened yet,” he replied. He wondered how much time he had left to prepare.

“Are you sure?” Arthur frowned as he sat up in his cot and brushed a few remaining webs off his robes. “It certainly _looks_ like you rescued me from a giant spider.”

“How did you… _oh_.” As the pieces began to fall into place, Alfred realized that Arthur had never been in any true danger. His cocoon had been part of the elaborate set-up for the second task; _that_ was why the key had hinted at something precious being taken from him and what the Hufflepuff girl and Durmstrang professor had both been referring to when they warned him that something wasn’t ready yet.

Alfred flushed in embarrassment as Arthur gave him a wry smile. “You didn’t figure out the key did you?”

“Uh-uh. I was just looking for you because I wanted to apologize.”

“Really?” Arthur gave him a wide-eyed and hopeful look similar to the one he had worn when Alfred first mentioned the Yule Ball. This time, Alfred wasn’t going to mess it up.

“Yeah.” Alfred took a deep breath; this was _way_ harder than fighting a spider in the dungeons. “I’m sorry for ruining your date with Gilbert.”

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “You didn’t ruin my date. I chewed him out myself for spiking the punch.”

“Then why did you refuse to talk to me?”

“The tournament organizers didn’t want me to say anything that might give away the secret after they asked for my participation in the second task.” Arthur’s gaze dropped to the floor and he blushed slightly. “I knew it would be hard not to give you any hints, so I decided it would be easier to say nothing at all.”

“A hint would have been nice,” Alfred mused, as the clues written on the key finally clicked into place. Something precious had been stolen from him, and he had restored it with the Wiggenweld Potion. He wondered if Arthur knew why he had fit the criteria for the second task. Judging by the color of Arthur’s cheeks, Alfred guessed that he did. “I feel like such an idiot,” he admitted.

“For not understanding the key?”

“No.” Alfred shook his head. “For not realizing sooner that there was only one person I wanted to take to the Yule Ball.”

“Well, you’re not the only idiot,” Arthur replied softly. He rose to his feet and gazed upward into Alfred’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have said yes to Gilbert when I knew he wasn’t the one I wanted.”

“Who did you want to date?” Alfred asked breathlessly. His cheeks felt warm from standing so close to Arthur in the narrow space between the infirmary cots.

“You’ll need to figure that out on your own,” Arthur said playfully. “But… perhaps I could give you a little hint.”

Arthur closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips against Alfred’s. It was warm and soft and _wonderful_. Tilting his head until he found an even better angle, Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and pulled him closer. He knew that the tournament officials would find him eventually and chew him out for ruining the set-up for the second task, but he didn’t care. Alfred had a new ambition in life. As far as he was concerned, anything that ended with him kissing Arthur was a total victory.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Wiggenweld Potion works better when you deliver it via a kiss! :D
> 
> Another fun fact: I've now written a fic for Slytherin!Alfred with Arthur from each of the three other houses. Guess that just leaves Slytherin x Slytherin to make my collection complete...


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